The Tail of Foxface
by TheMockingJay'sFlight
Summary: This is the story of the sly Foxface. Her story is told as a girl named Abile Inganare, which in Italian means "clever fox".


Chapter 1

Reapings were the worst. Kids stiff with terror. A government official acting like the Hunger Games were a birthday. The images I saw on television, the slumped figures, the never ending blood, it was all a nightmare I never wanted to have. This was the 74th year of the bloodbath. This was the year I was chosen.

The morning crept slowly into the afternoon. How could the sun be shining so brightly on a day like this? Though the time had been crawling at a slow pace, two o'clock couldn't have come sooner. My family walked slowly to the plaza where the glass bowl with my name in it stood. The man behind the table pricked my finger with the needle. All around me, I saw different reactions from the other kids around me. The 12 year olds seemed afraid of the needles. I hoped that no 12 year olds would be picked to fight this year. It was so wrong that way. As I walked into my section, every ounce of nervousness I had been holding back, hit me like a gust of wind had just blown it. My 1 thought that I had was repetitive: _Relax, they will not pick you. You only have a few slips in there. And even if- if remember, if- you are picked, you're quick and clever. You could win. Maybe._ Some kids had it worse than me. Poor families needed the tesserae. Momma told us that even if we were starving, my brother and I were not to take tesserae at all. My father agreed. My brother, Dasyure, and I were not my parents' only children. I had had an elder sister, Putrella, who died at a young age. My parents would do anything to keep my siblings and me safe after she died. If any of us were picked, they would be so lost. Berciare was too old to be a tribute. He was married with a little one on the way. "Good day, District 5! Today is the day that one girl and one boy will be chosen as a tribute to the Hunger Games!" Herten Mascon was our reaper. He thought that joking would make the two intense blows easier ."How about we let the young men go first, eh ladies?" Herten joked. These repulsive people thought it was funny? "And the young man to represent your district is … Sullivan Nikolai! Sullivan, congratulations! Come on up!" This was….sick! Herten was congratulating Sullivan like he won a special prize. "And now," Herten started, "for the most patient ladies, the young woman to represent District 5 is …..". The pause was so different. Every girl in the plaza prepared themselves for the worst. "… Abile Inganare!" Oh, I knew Abile. I was Abile. I was going to die.

* * *

Chapter 2

As I walked up to the stage, I knew I had to honestly try to win. To see Dasyure again, to see Momma, to see Papa, to see Berciare, to see his wife, and their child. I had to see my family again. I needed to see District 5 again. I would try. I made the decision then and there that I would be silent, and train, and win. My face was calm as I walked up to the stage and shook hands with Sullivan. He didn't matter to me. The Peacekeepers escorted us into the Justice Building. Sullivan was like me, yet unlike me. He was poor, and so he gasped at the building. But his face only allowed that one gasp to escape his silent mouth. I wasn't so sure that gasp was for the building though. I could see his terror deep down. Like me, he was trying keep a cool head. He glanced at me, and I shrugged for that was the only thing I could do. We could both, fight, we could both die, but only one of us could win, and that chance was slight. Possibly that would change.

The Peacekeepers escorted me to a room, where I would say goodbye to my loved ones. Dasyure came in first. "Abi, I am so, so sorry. It should have been me. If I was a girl I would have volunteered. This is all my fau-," he gasped. "Dasyure, you couldn't have changed this if you wanted to. Dasyure? I will win. I am quick enough. Past the Cornucopia I'll run. I'll hide if there is a place to hide. I'll fight when there is a time to fight. I'll come back, you'll see." I said this with more confidence than I felt. I wondered how long I would last. Two weeks? 6 days? 1 day? 1 minute? My brother, a man who kept his composure for the 5 years he had been eligible for the Games, losing classmates and even a friend, began to sob. "A-Abile, I love you, you remember that. You win and you come back. I'll be waiting!" he yelled. A Peacekeeper came in and pulled him out. "I love you, too, Dasyure!" I screamed at the last moment. "Goodbye!" I sat down and felt my cheeks. Good, I had yet to cry. I had to be strong. I was deep in thought when my parents came in. "Abile? Abi?" my father said in his deep, stern voice, "You promise me one thing- you will try to win! I don't care if it's hard, but I know you can do it. You're my daughter!" he proclaimed. "She can win". He said this more to reassure himself than to reassure me. "Momma?" I asked. She had been silently crying. "Abi, do you know what your name means?" I shook my head. "Long ago, there used to be a language in a place called Europe. It was called Italian. I found an old book from your great-great grandmother's chest that had Italian in it. I saw two words. One was our last name. Inganare. It means fox. Look at you, my little fox-haired baby. I also saw the word "abile". It meant clever. You are my clever fox girl. You win, you come home, alright?" she said. "Yes, Momma. Yes, Papa. I will try. I love you all so much!" I cried out. I heard the Peacekeeper open the door. "We love you! I love you," I heard my parents cry. My next visitor was Berciare and his wife. A friend. It was time to leave. A train to take me far, far away. To the arena where I would fight to the death and die.

Sullivan had managed to not cry either, I noticed. Why were we acting like Careers if we would probably get killed by one? Our mentor, Luanda Klingon, was a good woman who cut to the chaise right away. Her motto for the games was "Do what you have to do". Her motto roughly translated to "Kill who you need to kill". Meaning we had one other option: die. I'd take her motto. Everyone seemed disgusted by Herten, who was playing it off like this was a child's game. There was a whole lot of talk about sponsors and training. I could run fast. Sullivan could use a knife, he guessed. I could see that Herten was disgusted by poor Sullivan, who ate so much, and wary of me, for I was acting quite sly. It wasn't my fault. If the Capitol would just be compassionate, Panem would be peaceful. It wouldn't be "peaceful". The train was pleasant enough for a death transporter. The shower had all of these fascinating panels which I quickly moved through and the rooms were too luxurious for someone who would be dead in a month. Our first night, we watched the rest of the tributes being reaped. Cato, the boy from District 2, was monstrous. He volunteered for a place in the games, no doubt wanting to spill some blood. He would definitely be a Career. His fellow tribute, a girl named Clove, had a maniac glint in her eye. The tributes from District 1 will obviously be Careers. Marvel and Cato would probably lead the group. Glimmer, is a pretty girl, but I do not trust her. The rest of the tributes aren't very special or too scary. A boy from District 10 has a crippled foot. The pair from 11 are interesting. Thresh is a human wall. Cato would probably be scared of him, as am I. The little girl, Rue, is so tiny and is only 12. I pray she has a chance. District 12 is quite interesting. A small 12 year old girl, Primrose, was reaped, bur then another girl screamed she would volunteer. The older girl says her name is Katniss, and she is most likely the little girl's sister. Peeta is the boy, and though he looks very mellow, I see a slight threat with him. So many of the people reaped will be dead soon. Who will I kill? Who will kill me?

* * *

Chapter 3

We arrive in the great Capitol in almost 2 days. The first event is the Tribute Parade. We all meet with our stylists to prepare. My stylist, Tulsa, dresses me up like a doll in a sparkly silver leotard with an odd round piece of fabric my head goes through. Sullivan, who now likes to be called Nikolai, is wearing the exact same outfit as me. During the parade, we both wave, I very nervously. When we arrive at the place we'll be staying for only a few days, Herten leads us to our own floor. In the dining quarters, silent people wait on us. Papa told me about them once. Avoxes are criminals who had their tongues cut out. So many stories swirl gently around us. What crimes were committed to bring this upon these people? Most importantly, how many tributes have they served? How tributes have made it out alive?

The interviews have come. Luckily, I have 5 minutes to answer whatever questions Caesar Flickerman asks me. His blue hair honestly scares me, it's so unnatural. Glimmer looks as pretty as ever. No sponsors will need to ask questions to give her help. My turn comes and I dart onto the stage, answering my questions as quick as possible. I wear a light aquamarine dress, with a silver choker. My auburn hair is in these twin buns, with the rest of my hair cascading down. I'm not very attractive. Hardly any sponsors will want me. Shy, unfriendly, wily. Katniss seems to have a girly essence tonight. District 12's parade costumes were amazing. They were lit on fire. Katniss has fire on her dress tonight too. Then when Peeta comes out, he has the audience and Caesar captivated and silly. Before his interview is over though, he confesses love for Katniss, which seems to come out of nowhere. Maybe it's a strategy to win the hearts of every sponsor alive. Or just to win the Games. But he looks like someone who tells the truth. I'm not sure which. I don't know why I am paying attention to all the other tributes. 23 of us will be dead soon, anyways, so it's not like we are here to become friends. One of them will kill me. I'll just be unimportant to everyone anyway. 1 tribute out of 24 original tributes. I hope to make it to at least half the competition. If I get lucky.

* * *

Chapter 4

I get nervous when Luanda and Herten talk to us about training. I'm not nervous about the training itself, more the fact that my time alive is decreasing. The Hunger Games are sneaking up on everyone. Nikolai looks stressed. I bet anything he wishes he was a Career. The public training is here. There is so much to do. I take a test on bugs and plants, my fingers darting around like lightning bolts. I also do my best to notice everyone else's skills. Cato has strength and is good at using a spear. Clove can throw a knife right on the bull's eye. Katniss pays attention to tying knots, making snares, and shooting arrows. Peeta can throw a mass steel boulder as if it's a small pebble. That little girl, Rue, follows what Katniss does, I notice. For a little while, Rue disappears, but I see her up in the cables high above the rest of the tributes. Hmm, interesting. I was sure I could climb. I was light enough, but I preferred the ground, like a fox. Momma wasn't all that wrong about me being a clever fox girl. When I was little, I would steal apples from our kitchen without Momma noticing. I would always think of different ways to do sneaky things. During hide-and-seek at school, I would always be found last. The Games were a little bit like stealing apples and playing hiding games. I needed stealth and a plan to stay alive.

My private training came quicker than I had expected. I was the 9th tribute to go in. Nikolai sat as far away from me as he could and as close to the Careers as was possible. He seemed a joke to them. I did small stuff in the training. I ran, and ducked, and hid. Nothing impressive. I didn't have a special skill. The Games. The Games. The Hunger Games were here.

Tulsa gave me simple, but active clothing. The outfit was breathable, and I could move easily in it. When I got to the Arena, my breathing quickened. I jumped at slight noises. My plan was simple: become a fox. When we could step off the plates (if we stepped off before it was time we would be blown up), I would avoid all conflict and run past the inevitable massacre at the Cornucopia. If there were woods I would hide in them. I would need water and food. I could find a stream or lake, perhaps, and use other tributes' supplies. All of a sudden, it was time. As I hugged Tulsa, she wished me good luck. As she guided me to my plate Tulsa asked, "Abile, are you ready for this? I know you can do it." I didn't look back as I stepped into the chute. "Yes. I am ready. Let the Games begin." My plate began to rise to the electronic voice counting down from 20. "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0." The Hunger Games had started.


End file.
